


A Very Good Place to Start

by DizzyDrea



Series: Just Your Average Fairy Tale [1]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Backstory, F/M, Origins, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 15:58:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDrea/pseuds/DizzyDrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She stood, cradling a cup of coffee that was steadily going cold, her mind a whirl of images that couldn't be real, except that they were. She'd seen what she'd seen. She only had to figure out a way to make it make sense. <i>Prequel to Unpretty Today</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After I'd published _Unpretty Today_ , I got to wondering just how Nikki and Renard wound up a couple. So, I set about exploring that idea. I started this story last summer, and I'm just now getting around to finishing and publishing it. As such, it's not quite canon compliant with respect to Renard's species. Though, to be honest, I think I'd rather have this Sean Renard than a Renard that's a _hexenbiest_. Maybe it's just me, but shouldn't a Prince be handsome? This is obviously an AU take on _Grimm_ , so nothing unfolds quite like it does in the TV 'verse. Also, while I classify this as romance, I couldn't quite get to the _romance_ part of it. Which means that there'll be another part to this story, one that fits in between this story and _Unpretty Today_. I have no idea when I'll write it, but I do plan to.
> 
> Title comes from "Do-Re-Mi" from _The Sound of Music_.
> 
> Disclaimer: Grimm is the property of NBC, Universal Television, GK Productions, Hazy Mills Productions, Open 4 Business Productions LLC and a lot of other people who aren’t me. I am doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~

Officer Nichole Burkhardt was the first one on the scene; a grisly double homicide in a quiet neighborhood on the West Side. 

The neighbors had gotten worried when the elderly couple at the end of the block hadn't been seen for a few days. Portland PD had dispatched a unit, and Nikki had been the first to go inside. What she'd seen had made her blood run cold. 

It was her first body watch, but what struck her wasn't the blood. That, at least, she'd expected. What she hadn't expected was the smell. The stench of rotting flesh had gotten into her nostrils, so that every breath she took was a fresh experience in hell. She'd tried breathing through her mouth, but she swore she could taste the decomp, and that was even worse. 

It had gotten so bad that she thought maybe she'd be sick, right there on the front porch. She bent over, hands on her knees as she tried to fight back the sensation. 

A hand appeared under her nose, holding out what appeared to be a tin of Vick's Vapo-Rub. She followed the hand up the arm to the face of the man holding it. He was handsome, with aquiline features and kind eyes. She recognized him as one of the detectives but instead of disdain or a gloating smirk, his face only held the sympathy of someone who'd been there and done that. 

"Put it under your nose," he said. "It'll help with the smell."

She snatched the container out of his hand and dipped her finger inside, then smeared the gel under and just inside her nose. She took a tentative breath, and nearly gasped for joy when all she could smell was menthol. 

"Thanks, Detective," she said sincerely as she handed him back the tin. 

"Sean Renard," he said by way of greeting. He dipped his own finger inside and rubbed some on his nose. "Just a little trick I learned from an old partner."

She followed his gaze as it flicked to her own partner, standing at the curb trying to keep the crowd at bay. She frowned at him when he smirked, as though he knew exactly what had happened and was taking some sort of glee from it. 

"The coroner should be here soon," Renard said, drawing her attention back. "I'd suggest a shower and a fresh uniform when you get back to the station house."

Nikki nodded. "Thanks."

"No thanks necessary," Renard said with a smile. "Just doing my job. Officer...?"

"Nichole Burkhardt. Nikki."

"Officer Burkhardt," he said, smiling and nodding to her as he passed by on his way into the house. 

She didn't think it was his job to look after green officers, but she just nodded in gratitude and let him go about his business. She spent her remaining time on body watch thinking up ways to get back at her partner. And if thoughts of a certain green-eyed detective occasionally invaded her mind, she accepted them as a way to pass the time; anything to keep herself from dying of boredom.

~o~

Sean Renard climbed the steps of the precinct, his mind miles away, in a house painted with blood and the unmistakable stench of death. 

He'd known instantly who—or rather, what—was the cause of all the carnage. Not even the menthol rub could disguise that smell. And he could hope all he wanted that he was wrong, but that wouldn't change the fact that, as Portland's resident Royal, the job fell to him. 

Feral _blutbaden_ were always hard to deal with, but this bunch seemed particularly vicious. This was the third home invasion robbery he'd investigated in the last month, and the crime scenes were getting nastier with each one. 

He was still relatively new to Portland, so his network wasn't as well-developed as he'd like. This was when he'd really like to have a Grimm, even if they were often more trouble than they were worth.

Although, he was fairly certain that Portland's Grimm wouldn't fit that mold. He'd been watching Nikki Burkhardt ever since he'd arrived in town. She was a remarkable officer, and a beautiful woman, and he'd felt himself drawn to her even before their first meeting just the day before. But from what he could see, she was totally unaware of her heritage. That frankly mystified him; he'd thought all Grimms learned their craft from the previous generation, but a few discrete inquiries had told him that this was not the case with Nikki. 

Which left him with a problem. Or, an opportunity. 

As if speaking of the devil made her appear, he spotted the very person occupying his thoughts. 

Nikki walked down the steps, dressed casually in jeans and a slim button down shirt that matched the color of her eyes. He tried to ignore how that tugged at something deep inside him. Mostly, he was successful.

"Detective Renard," she greeted him as they came level on the steps. 

"Officer Burkhardt," he said, smiling. "You look better today."

Nikki blushed. "Thanks. And thanks for your advice. It really helped."

Sean shrugged. "The longer you're on the job, the more you learn." He looked at her, weighing his next words. He wanted to bring her in on this case, not only because he'd heard that her instincts were sharp, but also because he needed to gage her reaction to the nature of the case. Deciding to just go ahead, he made an offer. "Do you have a few minutes? I'd like to get your input on the case."

"Me?" She asked, genuinely surprised. "I'm just the Uni that stood the body watch. What could I possibly have to offer?"

"I've asked around about you," he said, opting for honesty. "Everyone says you have good instincts, as well as some... unique insights. I'd really appreciate any help you can give."

She appeared to contemplate him for a few moments, likely trying to decide if this was just more hazing, or a genuine offer. She must have decided that his offer was on the up and up, because she smiled and shrugged. 

"Sure, why not."

"Shall we?" he asked, extending his hand for her to precede him down the stairs. 

...continued...


	2. Chapter 2

~o~

The patrol car rolled to a stop at the curb, and her new partner, Officer Wu, gave her a long look.

"You gonna be okay in there?"

Nikki took a deep breath. "Yeah. I’ll be fine."

"Then let’s go," he said.

Just as they stepped out of the cruiser, Wu’s phone rang. He waved her on ahead as he answered the call. Nikki headed up the walk, slight trepidation crowding in at what she would find inside. At least there was no smell of decomp this time.

Nikki wasn’t sure whether that was good or not.

Still, Renard had called and asked for her specifically, so even if it was another grisly scene in there, she’d go in and do her best. Wu hadn’t even asked her why she’d been called in. Her last partner would have been all over her, asking whether she was trying to curry favor, or perhaps attempting to sleep her way to a gold shield. But not Wu; he’d simply shrugged and steered the car to the address they’d been given.

Nikki nodded at the patrolman standing guard at the front door. He looked green, and not just because he was probably fresh out of the Academy. She felt sorry for him; it had, after all, been her just last week, and she wasn’t likely to forget that experience anytime soon.

She moved into the front hall of the modest two-story, being careful where she stepped so she didn’t disturb any uncollected evidence. When she arrived in the living room, Nikki gasped.

The walls were dripping with blood, much as they had at the last scene she’d worked. When she looked up, there was even some spatter on the ceiling. It made her stomach turn threateningly.

"Officer Burkhardt."

Nikki turned towards the voice, seeing a pair of kind green eyes staring back at her. She stayed put, waiting for the Detective to join her instead of trying to navigate the crime scene techs and evidence markers strewn throughout the room. 

"Detective," she said, nodding at him as he approached. She couldn’t help the warm flush at seeing him. He looked good in his expertly tailored suit; the green of his tie made his eyes seem to glow in the low light. She scolded herself for even thinking such a thing at a crime scene.

"Come on," Renard said, waving her deeper into the house. "It isn’t pretty, but I wanted to get your take on the scene, after our conversation the other day."

"Anything I can do to help, sir," she said.

He led her through the living room, past bits of flesh and bloodied clothes. "The neighbor called it in. His wife was here watering the plants and feeding the cat. When she didn’t come home, he got worried."

They stepped into the kitchen, and Nikki stopped cold. The woman’s body—what was left of it—was spread out on the floor, blood smeared on every available surface. It looked as though a pack of angry dogs had attacked her.

"Damn," she muttered.

Renard sighed. "Yeah."

Her eyes scanned the room, taking in every detail, despite the way it made her stomach lurch. The smeared tracks in the blood, the way the back door hung slightly crooked on its hinges, broken bits of dishes and glass everywhere.

"She put up one hell of a fight," she said. She noted the dented pan from the stove, now sitting in a corner near the refrigerator. "The frying pan, the dishes. She threw everything at them."

Renard perked up. "Them?"

"Well, yeah," Nikki said, turning to face him. "Look at the condition of the body. I doubt one person could have done this much damage. Besides, the broken dishes are scattered all around the room, like she was aiming at multiple targets."

"That’s what I was afraid of," he said, shaking his head.

"It’s probably not meth-heads," she said a moment later.

"What makes you say that?"

He looked… curious, as if he’d already dismissed that idea himself, but wanted to hear her reasoning.

"Drug addicts are usually looking for a quick score," she said. "Money, something they can pawn. Prescription drugs will do in a pinch. You didn’t find any blood upstairs, did you?"

"No, we didn’t," he said, shaking his head.

"Then I’m thinking the whole point of this break-in was to attack our vic here," she said. "Or maybe the homeowner, and the victim was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

They stood in silence, both lost in thought. Nikki wondered if this was what it was like to be a detective: a lot of questions and precious few answers. It didn’t deter her from wanting to become one, but she was beginning to realize that it wasn’t as easy or glamorous as it looked.

Renard sighed. "Do me a favor and call in a BOLO."

"What are we looking for?"

"Anything that doesn’t look right," he said, shrugging. "We’re probably looking for a group of kids. They’ll have somewhere they’re hiding out, because I doubt they’d be walking around with bloody clothes."

"They’re escalating," Nikki said quietly.

"Yeah," Renard said, sighing heavily. "They are."

They made their way quietly back out of the house, stopping on the front porch to watch the ebb and flow of an active crime scene. She could see Wu standing by their cruiser, talking to one of the other uniforms working the scene.

Nikki turned to Renard, cocking her head in Wu’s general direction. "Thanks, by the way."

"Just looking out for a fellow officer," Renard said, lifting one shoulder in an offhand shrug, not even bothering to deny that he was responsible for her having a new partner. "Thanks for your help today."

"Not that you needed it," Nikki said. "But anytime I can help, just call."

Renard nodded. Nikki turned and headed for the cruiser, her mind swirling. Between the crime scene and the memory of intense green eyes on her, she knew she wouldn’t be leaving this case behind anytime soon.

...continued...


	3. Chapter 3

~o~

The black SUV rolled to a stop beside the Portland PD cruiser parked outside an abandoned warehouse. Renard climbed out and circled around to where the two uniformed officers stood waiting for him.

"What have we got?"

"Looks like somebody’s been using this as a squat," Wu said. "They’re not very tidy."

"Anyone inside?" Renard asked. He wasn’t sure what he wanted the answer to be; he definitely wanted these _blutbaden_ off the streets, but with just two unis for back-up, he didn’t think the odds were in their favor, no matter who they were.

"Doesn’t look like it," Nikki said. "Come on, I’ll show you."

Renard couldn’t think of a good reason why not, so he followed her inside. "Call in the CSTs, Wu," he said to the other officer as they passed. "And get some back-up out here. If they’re not inside, they might be in the area."

"Will do," Wu said.

They moved inside quietly, Renard following behind Nikki. Neither of them had their guns drawn, but Renard’s hand had drifted to the butt of his gun without conscious thought the second they’d entered. He smiled in approval when he noticed that Nikki had done the same.

His instincts were clawing at him, telling him this wasn’t the best idea. A Grimm who hadn’t come into her gift yet and a bastard Royal were no match for a pack of _blutbaden_ on a rampage. This could end badly, he knew.

They slipped between stacks of boxes, headed to the rear of the building. "There," Nikki whispered as they paused at the end of a row.

Renard poked his head out, seeing no one around. Subtly, he scented the air. It reeked of _blutbaden_ and blood. This pack, whoever they were, had been busy. The odor wasn’t sharp, however, so they probably weren’t in the building.

He emerged from behind the stacks of boxes, gun drawn as he scanned the area. Seeing nothing, he relaxed some, though not all the way.

"It’s like they’re a pack of rabid dogs."

Renard turned around to see Nikki examining the den with a wrinkled nose. There were blankets and pillows—some smudged with blood—scattered around, along with empty food containers and clothes, some bloodied, some not.

"Probably not far from the truth," he said without thought.

His head popped up, watching her reaction, but if what he said bothered her at all, she didn’t show it.

"How long do you think they’ve been gone?" she asked instead.

Renard crossed over to a box that they’d transformed into a makeshift kitchen. There were half-drunk cups of coffee and empty candy wrappers scattered over its surface. He held his hand over one of the cups; it was cold.

"A while, I’d guess," he said. "The crime scene techs should be able to tell us if any of this blood belongs to our victims."

"I don’t envy them their jobs," Nikki said, wrinkling her nose. She glanced around. "Where do you think they are?"

He heard the question she wasn’t asking: were they out looking for a fresh victim? Given the frequency of the attacks, they should have full bellies by now, but that was no guarantee. They could be simply attacking for the sake of something to do. That was always the danger when dealing with a pack like this, which ratcheted up Renard’s concern another notch.

"Let’s go—"

The rest of his sentence cut off when he heard the scuffling noises coming from the back door. Renard raised his gun as four people tumbled through the door into the room. He cut a glance to Nikki, who had raised her own weapon and was standing opposite him. It wasn’t the optimal situation, especially with four _blutbaden_ staring them down, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it now.

"Hey, look," one of the kids—male, probably in his early twenties—said, a snarl lifting his lip, "we got ourselves a couple of piggies."

"Told ya we didn’t need to go out," the other guy said, punching his buddy in the arm for emphasis. "The cops here must deliver."

Renard watched the by-play, keeping a careful watch on Nikki out of the corner of his eye.

"This your stuff?" Nikki asked.

"Yeah, and you’re trespassing," the first one said.

Nikki snorted. "Haven’t you got that a little backwards, kid?"

"Who you callin’ kid?" he shot back.

Renard straightened up a little, raising one hand. "Now, now, no need to get hostile. We just want to talk."

"Bullshit," one of the girls said. "You’re cops."

"Yes, we are," Renard said. "There’ve been some attacks in the area. We just want to know if you’ve seen anything."

The first kid narrowed his eyes, taking deep breaths. Renard knew what that meant; he’d scented something, and was trying to figure out what that might be. They were running out of time, and he didn’t hear any sirens indicating that their back-up was close. He had a feeling things were about to get ugly.

Renard drew himself up to his full, not-inconsiderable height, and lowered his gun to his side. He could feel Nikki's eyes on him, questioning his sanity without words. He willed her to understand and follow his lead.

"This territory is mine," he said in his best regal voice. He let go his control, just enough for the young _blutbaden_ to be able to see. "Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you where you stand."

The other guy, the younger one, took a small step back, and the girls both gasped. He heard their gasp echoed in Nikki's voice, but he didn't have time to spare a concern for how she'd handle this.

"Son of a bitch!" the older kid said. He spit at Renard. "Verdammte Königlichen!"

Renard's lip curled in barely-concealed disgust as he repeated his previous statement. "You stand accused of murder in my territory. Tell me why I shouldn't kill you."

"You're a cop!" the younger boy said. "You can't kill us."

"I am the Prince of Portland. I can do whatever I please."

He'd expected the older male to act rashly, but it was the younger one who rushed him first. His face rippled and stretched as he transformed into his true self, and rushed at Renard, claws extended. Renard simply stepped out of the way of the oncoming assault. The kid stumbled, landing on his shoulder and rolling away. Renard caught sight of Nikki's expression as he turned; she was frozen in shock, her weapon pointing uselessly at the spot where the kid used to be standing.

The other male took a step forward, growling as he, too, woged. Nikki, pointed her gun at him, this time determination showing on her face.

"Don't move," she barked at him. Something in her tone froze him in his shoes.

Renard turned back to the kid who'd tried to take him on. "Perhaps your parents never taught you respect. Stand down and I promise you this will go easier."

"Go to hell!" the kid yelled. He grabbed a piece of wood laying near his feet and stood, rushing at Renard again as he swung for his head.

Renard easily deflected the blow, sending the kid tumbling away from him once more. This only served to enrage the kid further. He turned back and raised the wood as he took another step towards Renard.

A shot rang out, and the kid crumpled to the ground.

"You killed him!" one of the girls shouted. 

She took a step forward, and Nikki retrained her gun on her. "He's not dead; I shot him in the shoulder. But I will shoot you, too, if you don't back off."

Renard looked at Nikki, raising his eyebrow. She shrugged, shooting him a crooked smile. In the distance, he could hear the sound of sirens getting closer. Their backup, and only a few minutes late.

He took a deep breath, reigning in his true nature. "Get down on your knees. All of you. Hands on your heads."

The kids looked to each other, but slowly complied. They looked petrified, and for that Renard was grateful. If they were scared of what he might do, they'd be less likely to try to run or fight back.

...continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verdammte Königlichen = Fucking Royal


	4. Chapter 4

~o~

The moonlight shone in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the lights and sounds of cars below muted by the thick glass.

It was hours later. Statements had been given, questions asked and answered. Nikki had changed out of her uniform into a pair of jeans and a soft sweater, and when Renard had asked, she'd followed him home. 

She didn't know what else to do.

She stood, cradling a cup of coffee that was steadily going cold, her mind a whirl of images that couldn't be real, except that they were. She'd seen what she'd seen. She only had to figure out a way to make it make sense. 

Movement flickered in the reflection of the glass as Renard stepped up beside her. He reached around her and tipped a bottle over her cup, amber liquid sloshing into her coffee. She turned, raising an eyebrow.

"Brandy." He ghosted a smile at her. "My grandmother's secret recipe."

Nikki smiled in return, though by the look of the frown on his face, she could tell he wasn't buying it. Instead of trying to explain the jumble her thoughts had become, she just took a sip of the coffee. She choked a little when the brandy hit her throat, unprepared for the strong brew.

"Okay?" Renard asked.

She swallowed a few times, took a deep breath. "Yeah."

"Come on," he said, guiding her gently by the elbow to his couch.

The couch was large and comfortable, the leather enveloping her the moment she sat down. She let her eyes wander the room as she sipped at the coffee, taking in the details she was too shocked to notice when she'd first arrived.

It was a combination of Old World charm and modern flair. The art was old—hundreds of years, if she had to guess—and probably original. But the furniture was new, all clean edges and chrome and glass. It was a reflection of the man who called this place home, she thought. He'd always had a somewhat regal demeanor, as if he was from a different time and place, though his finely tailored suits and workmanlike attitude spoke of a willingness to work—and work hard—for every inch he gained.

"I'd imagine you have questions," he said as he sat down beside her on the couch. He set down a carafe—probably more coffee, she noted absently—and the bottle of brandy—close to hand in case it was needed again—then turned to face her, his own cup cradled in his hands.

Nikki pressed her lips together, trying and failing to gather her thoughts. "What… happened?"

Renard raised his eyebrows, as if that wasn't the question he'd expected her to ask first. "The short version is that those kids are a pack of _blutbaden_ on a rampage. A pack can be dangerous, given the right—or wrong—mix of members, but younglings without supervision is a recipe for disaster. If we hadn't caught them when we did, they'd have continued to maim and kill, the attacks becoming more vicious and daring, until we were able to stop them."

" _Blutbaden_?" She tilted her head. "For a second, he looked like he turned into some kind of wolf. Is that what you mean?"

"Yes," he said. He looked surprised.

"You want to explain how a seemingly harmless-looking kid can turn into something out of a fairy tale?"

Renard chuckled. "Because the fairy tales were really more like cautionary tales, and the creatures they described were really real."

"Huh," Nikki said, leaning back into the couch cushions. That explained so much, and yet not nearly enough.

"I suspect your next question will be how I know what I know," Renard said, cocking an eyebrow.

"No, actually my next question was going to be just how many of those things are out there?"

" _Blutbaden_?" he asked. Nikki shrugged. "There are packs scattered all over. Most stay away from population centers; they keep to themselves, hunting for what they need. For the most part, they recognize that if they attack human communities, they'll be exposed, and that's something every wesen fears—that's our term for the creatures that inhabit our world. Feral _blutbaden_ are rarer, but they're out there. But they're not the only ones. There are a vast number of wesen the world over. Some are vicious and bloodthirsty, some are harmless. But all are something other than human."

"And how is it that I could see what he is?" she asked. "I mean, I've never seen anything like that before, and I think I'd remember if I had."

"No, you're not wrong," he said, leaning forward. "The reason you could see him today is because he lost control of himself. He got angry and charged me. When he woged, he didn't bother hiding it. That's why you could see."

"Woged?"

"Woge. It's a German word. Literally translated, it means 'the wave'," he said. "The change comes over him like a wave, and he transforms into his true nature. All wesen can do it."

"And you?" she asked, leaning forward as she searched his face. She couldn't find any trace of the man she'd seen in the warehouse, no matter how hard she tried. He still had kind green eyes and a friendly, open expression, but she knew there was something else buried just underneath.

Renard sat up and took a deep breath. She could see it, the moment he relaxed control. His features became sharper, more distinct. He became more handsome—beautiful, even, if such a word could be used to describe a man. His green eyes burned with a fire from within, and she began to see the gold circlet appear around his head. She gasped, recognizing in the man sitting before her the descriptions of princes her Aunt used to tell her about when she was a little girl and she read her those old fairy tales.

She raised a hand to cover her mouth. "Oh my god!"

"What?" he asked, leaning forward once more, hand extended though he didn't touch her. "What's wrong?"

Nikki dropped her hand to her lap. "My Aunt. She used to read me the old fairy tales. She had this huge, old book of Grimm fairy tales that she used to read me. You look like them, the ones from the stories."

Renard nodded. "Yes."

"Are you…" She swallowed and tried again. "Are you really a prince?"

She remembered the words coming out of his mouth. _I am the Prince of Portland. I can do whatever I please._ The words hadn't really registered with her when he'd said them; she'd thought maybe he was just trying to scare the kids. But now? Now, she wasn't so sure.

"I am," he said.

"And this is all real? I'm not hallucinating?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "You're as sane as I am." He sighed, resting his arms on his knees. "You needed to find out sooner than later. I'm only sorry I couldn't prepare you better."

"Do other people know?" she asked. Because, if this was something that people just _knew_ , she was seriously going to have a talk with her partner.

"Humans can't see us," he said. "Most don't know we exist, but you'd have found out eventually."

"Because I'm a cop?"

Renard shook his head again. "Because you're a Grimm. Or, you will be, one day."

"A Grimm?" she asked, head popping up. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"The Grimm are—or were, rather—something of a criminal profiler and arbitrator in our world," he said. 

He sat up, sipping at his coffee again. He grimaced; likely it'd gone cold. When he reached out for the carafe, he tipped it in her direction. She held her cup out and he poured the steaming liquid into her cup, then topped up his own. When he reached for the brandy, he did the same thing.

Nikki shrugged. "What the hell."

He poured a splash of the amber liquid into her mug, then more into his own before he set it back down and leaned back against the cushions.

"So, the Grimm are profilers," he continued, as though he'd never been interrupted. "They study and catalog the wesen, learning their habits, biology, customs. In the old days, they helped control the worst offenders while protecting the wesen from humans and vice versa. They didn't work directly for the royals, but the Houses benefited from their work. It was a good system, and it worked for a long time."

"Until it didn't." She didn't have to be a genius to know that was the next thing he would say.

"Until it didn't," he said, nodding. He looked pleased, like she'd figured something out. She wasn't sure what, but things always had a way of changing, and usually not for the better. "A group of wesen calling themselves the Verrat began to rebel against the control of the Royal Houses and the Grimm. They resented being told what to do, where to live, and they especially resented the Grimm for enforcing justice in the wesen world."

"But why?" Nikki asked. "You have to have justice, or else society will break down. Surely they understood that?"

"You would think," Renard said, shaking his head sadly. "But the Verrat believed that the justice they were subject to was one-sided, and biased against them. So, they rebelled. They began to exert control over the wesen on their own. The Royal Houses began to lose control of the population, and the Grimms—for whatever reason—became more vicious and indiscriminate in their killing. The whole system broke down."

"Maybe they were trying to take away the Verrat's powerbase," she said thoughtfully. It wouldn't be the first time that an army—even if it were an army of one—had begun to kill the population in order to deprive the enemy of their followers. There would be no one to follow if there were no followers.

"Could be," he said, tipping his head as if he hadn't thought of that before. "At any rate, it reached its zenith in the Second World War. By then, the Houses had lost what power they'd been able to hang on to, and the Grimm had become fearsome killers. Not that the Verrat were any better, but by then no one remembered what it used to be like, and everyone lived in fear."

They lapsed into silence for a time, Nikki sipped absently at her coffee, trying to process what she'd just learned. She wanted to be able to dismiss it all, but knew that wasn't possible. She'd seen what she'd seen, and this was as logical an explanation as any. Still, there was one thing nagging at her.

"How do you know I'm a Grimm?"

Renard sighed. "You come from a long line of Grimms."

Nikki's eyes bugged out. "You mean there are others in my family?" At Renard's nod, she asked, "Who?"

His eyes skittered away, then met hers. "Your Aunt is a Grimm."

She laughed. "My Aunt's a librarian."

"Who moonlights as a Grimm, one of the most fearsome in modern history," he said. "She probably has a whole library of books about wesen, not to mention the tools of the trade, hidden away somewhere."

She sat back, thinking that through for a minute. "The book. The one she used to read me when I was little."

"Probably one of her reference books." 

"Is that why you told me?" she asked quietly. "Because I’m a Grimm and you're a Royal and you wanted my help?"

He tilted his head, as if to acknowledge that she'd guessed right. "I do want us to work together. Unlike many of our ancestors, I don't see a reason for us to work at cross purposes."

"Are my ancestors rolling in their graves, sir?"

Renard chuckled. "Probably." He leaned forward, his eyes turning serious. "I came here to carve out a kingdom of my own. I'm not exactly… well-respected where I come from. I'm the illegitimate son of a king; there wasn’t much waiting for me if I'd stayed, so I left."

"Sounds reasonable," she said, ghosting a smile.

"You'd think, but it's not like I can really escape them," he said. He sighed again. "When they found out that I'd come here to seek you out, they contacted me. They have plans, but they need something your family has, and they want to use me to get it."

"Me?" she asked, shocked. "Why me? I didn't even know any of this existed until a couple of hours ago."

"When you come into your gift, you'll inherit everything your Aunt has," he said. "Including some items they'd like to get their hands on. I'd rather that didn't happen."

Nikki sat and stared at him for a while. She'd always thought he was a good man; good at his job, kind to the uniformed officers, and reassuring when dealing with victims but hard and unforgiving with the perps. But beyond that, she knew next to nothing about him. That was, until tonight. Now she didn't know what to think.

But there was something honest in his eyes that made her want to take him seriously. She'd always had good instincts about people, and her instincts were telling her that he could be trusted.

"Okay, let's say I believe you," she said, leaning forward. "What do I need to do?"

...continued...


	5. Epilogue

_Six Months Later_

"Officer Burkhardt."

"Detective Renard."

Nikki watched as the Detective surveyed the scene, his icy green gaze not missing any details. "What have we got?"

"The shop belongs to a Freddie Calvert," she said, checking her notes even though she didn't need to. "Says this is the first time he's been broken into, but he doesn't know what they'd be looking for. He sells herbs and spices, teas and herbal remedies."

"Do you believe him?" Renard asked, turning his gaze to her.

She shook her head. "Something about this doesn't add up, Sir. He's nervous, keeps watching the crime scene techs, like he's afraid they'll discover something."

"Could be he's dealing out of the back room," he said, shrugging elegantly. "Wouldn’t be the first time."

"Except I've talked to the techs," she said. She waved her hands around, as if to encompass the whole room. "This really is just a spice shop. They didn't find anything illegal, even down in the store room in the basement. Whatever he's hiding, I'm betting it's something off the books."

"This shop is rumored to cater to a certain clientele," Renard said. The look in his eyes conveyed his meaning easily: wesen.

"Which means we probably won't find what was taken," she said, nodding. "And if we do, it's not like we can do much. It probably doesn't have much value, unless we're talking truffles or something."

Renard chuckled. "No, not truffles. They don't get high on truffles."

"Ah," Nikki said, light dawning. She shrugged. "Still, probably not much we can do beyond take a report and hope we get lucky. The techs say there's tons of prints, but I'm betting they're all from the customers and Mr. Calvert."

"So, no help there," he said. "And I'd guess the perps aren't in the system. Anyone who deals in this type of thing wouldn't report the theft because there's no value outside the community."

"Yeah, the only reason Mr. Calvert reported the theft is because he had a customer waiting at the door when he got here this morning. She saw the destruction and insisted he call the cops."

"We'll look into it, but I don't expect we'll find who did it," he said. 

She watched him scan the room one more time, brow furrowed in thought. She knew from experience that he'd give this case as much attention as he gave a double homicide. She'd learned a lot about him in the last six months, chief among them that he protected his territory with a zeal that went far beyond his duty as a cop. And they were all his people, both humans and wesen. He'd taught her so much in such a short time, and she was beyond grateful.

He looked back to her, his face clearing into a kind smile, and she had to cover her indrawn breath at how handsome he was to her just then. She'd always found him particularly attractive, but that attraction had only grown since that fateful day. Not that she thought she had a chance with a guy like him. He was older and sophisticated, and could have his pick of any woman he wanted. Why would he choose a gawky woman with short dark hair who could nearly look him in the eye?

She sighed. There were days…

"Coffee later?" he asked, breaking into her thoughts.

"Sure," she said, smiling. "My tour ends at four."

"I'll come find you," he said, winking at her before he turned and headed back outside.

She felt her heart flutter as she watched him walk away. They'd been getting together for coffee a few times a week for several months, and she'd learned to cherish that time, picking his brain about the job and the Grimm work she was doing, even if she wasn't really a Grimm yet.

She didn't think for a minute that he'd be interested in her, but a girl could dream. He was a prince, after all.

~Finis


End file.
